The Point of No Return
by Lady Sarai
Summary: Robin and Batgirl figure some things out and take a chance. (Update: changed penname and edited.)


A/N: Set within the original series, thank you very much. Sometime before that _Subzero _movie. I may have taken a few liberties here and there, but hey—I'm spending my last summer before college writing Batman fanfics, so I think I'm entitled to some sort of poetic license. Beyond that, it was just plain fun. I've worked out some specific details, so just... enjoy! If things are conflicting with canon, take it with a grain of salt. (And please don't sue. You'll get laundry money and I will smell bad.) And here I give my sincere apologies for anything that seems out-of-character. Sometimes plot bunnies don't listen.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not Batman, Robin, Batgirl or any of their cool Bat-accessories. (Never mind alter-egos.) Wish I did. Don't. Don't own "The Phantom of the Opera", either. Please don't sue, as I am hopelessly broke and have nothing better to do with my time than sit at my computer typing stories that will bring me no money. If I wanted to earn money, I would use my considerable brain power to write something original. ::smacks her laughing muse::

Summary: Robin and Batgirl figure some things out and take a chance.

Rated: PG (I hate these things.)

**The Point of No Return**

_...Past the point of no return   
__No backward glances   
__The games we played till now are at an end..._

"Robin! Two minutes!" Batman called a warning before following the last of the Riddler's hired men up the staircase.

Robin keyed in the last of the passwords they'd stolen from the Riddler. Crossing his fingers, he watched the program scroll across the screen. "Come on..." he muttered, glancing at the clock above the computer as it rapidly counted down. The computer program that would overload the city's power grid, setting off numerous strategically placed explosives in the process, deleted itself. "It's too slow!" Robin realized, slamming a fist against the desk. Hearing approaching footsteps, he glanced over his shoulder in time to see Batgirl come running into the room, looking disheveled and limping slightly. "Are you all right?" he asked, turning back around.

She came up behind him and looked anxiously at the clock. "Yeah. Just twisted my ankle. Where's Batman?" she asked, glancing around the control room.

"He went after the last of them."

"Do you think this will work?" she asked, gesturing at the computer. "There's not much time..."

Robin glared at the screen before him, tapping his fingers impatiently. "We solved his riddles... Now we just have to see if we were right."

Batgirl bit her lip, watching the deletion continue. "Should it take this long? What if it doesn't finish in time?"

Robin didn't answer, just looked from the clock to the computer screen. "It has to work."

"Shouldn't we try to get out of here? Just in case..."

"It'll work!" Robin snapped. "We did everything right! We solved his stupid riddles... There's nothing else we could do..." Frowning, he turned to Batgirl. "Is there?"

Batgirl leaned over and tapped a few keys. While Robin was good with computers, Batgirl was better- and they both knew it. Shaking her head, she told him, "No. I think we're right... This _is_ working. Just too slowly."

Robin sighed heavily. "So we just wait."

She nodded and put a hand on his shoulder. "It's some... sick... wild goose chase, isn't it?"

"What?"

"This," she said, waving her hand at the computer. "The Riddler... he sent us on a wild goose chase... It's like some..." She paused, searching for the right word.

"Scavenger hunt with riddles," Robin finished, shaking his head. "He's obsessed. Even if this works, and we beat him... He won't stop. He's gotta be out of Gotham by now... There's no way he'd stay, just in case we didn't win, and this program did its job."

Batgirl squeezed his shoulder. "It'll work," she told him quietly. "We did it right. We played his game, the way he wanted us to. Isn't that how it works with him?"

Robin laughed weakly. "So we think. He wants to beat Batman. That's _all_ he wants... Even if we catch him again, and he's locked in Arkham... He'll escape and come up with some new game for us to play. More riddles to solve. That's how it's gone, every time."

They watched the computer work in silence, until Batgirl noticed something. "Robin—look. The clock..."

Robin watched it, eyes narrowing. "It's... slowing down."

Exchanging a surprised look with him, Batgirl said, "I think it's going to work."

Robin watched the countdown come to a slow stop, freezing at 10 seconds remaining. Breathing a sigh of relief when a screen popped up on the computer, letting them know that the files had successfully been deleted, he pushed himself away from the console. Taking Batgirl's arm, and beginning to lead her away, he said anxiously, "I think we should get out of here."

"An excellent idea," an all too familiar voice said from behind them.

Robin and Batgirl turned, searching for the source of the Riddler's voice. There was no one in the room. "You lose, Riddler," Robin called angrily. "The game's over!"

The Riddler's softly dangerous laughter filled the room and suddenly the screen on the computer changed to reveal a video of the green-suited man. "So you think, my young friend," he said, folding his hands casually on his question mark cane. "This was a one-player game," he told them. His evilly serene face changed suddenly to menacing. "And neither of you were invited to play."

Batgirl grabbed Robin's hand, which was clenched in a fist at his side. Tugging on it, she hissed, "Robin! Come on... We have to get out of here!"

The Riddler laughed. "Yes, Robin. Listen to your little girlfriend. Batman isn't there to help you now. You may have succeeded in stopping the overload, but you failed to solve the last part of my riddle. You've saved the city... But can you save yourselves?" With that, he laughed and the computer screen went blank.

"What did he mean?" Batgirl asked, glancing around the room.

Robin shook his head, gritting his teeth. "I don't know," he muttered fiercely. "There were too _many_ riddles... I can't remember them all exactly. I could have sworn..." There was a sudden shrill beeping noise that began emitting from the computer, and turning, they saw the numbers on the clock begin moving again.

Robin turned and gave Batgirl a shove. "Go! He's right—we did it wrong! We've got to get out of here!"

They ran toward the hallway Batgirl had entered from, making it just inside the entrance when there was a loud rumbling, followed by an explosion that picked them up off of their feet and propelled them through the small corridor before slamming them into a closed door. Robin grabbed Batgirl, pulling her down in front of him and turning her to face the door. "Close your eyes," he told her. Soon after, there was another loud explosion that shook the floor beneath them- the force of it was like a giant hand at their backs, forcing them into the door. Several more explosions followed, as the room they had left was destroyed computer by computer. When it seemed that the action was over, Robin lifted his head hesitantly, glancing over his shoulder. Seeing that the path back into the control room was blocked by warped metal and fire, he reached up and cautiously opened the door. They waited a few moments before he stood. Batgirl started to stand, but her right leg gave out on her. She winced, glaring at it and he helped her up.

"You okay?" he asked, running a nervous hand through his hair.

She nodded shakily, looking behind them at the wreck they'd barely escaped. "Yeah." She looked down at her leg. "I think I landed on my ankle wrong." Robin opened his mouth to say something, but the ground beneath them began to shake as yet another bomb was detonated, elsewhere in the building. Caught off balance, Batgirl grabbed Robin's arm and shook her head. "Let's get out of here."

Robin nodded curtly, and put an arm around her waist to help her walk. Stepping into the next room, he realized quickly that they had made a mistake. "This is not good..." he muttered. "This is _very_ not good..."

Batgirl groaned. "It wasn't like this earlier!"

The room glowed with a faint red light, caused by the countdown clocks positioned above the entrances surrounding the round lobby. Green question marks plastered the walls in an erratic pattern.

"How do we get out of _this_?" Batgirl asked, glancing about anxiously.

Robin was a step ahead of her. He pulled out a bat-bomb and activated it, hurling it at the skylight above them with all of his strength. "Look out," he ordered, pulling her beneath him and shielding them both with his cloak. When the glass stopped raining down on them, he pulled out a grapnel and shot it upwards. Grabbing the line securely, he gave her his most charming smile. "Care for a lift?"

She shook her head, wondering at how he managed to be flippant at such strange times and grabbed him about the neck, just in time to be lifted up off of her feet. Robin pushed her out onto the roof ahead of him and grabbed her as soon as he was over the edge. "Move!" he ordered, yanking her to her feet and half-carried her across the rooftop, as far from the skylight as was possible before the timers counted down to zero.

They'd made it half-way across the roof when the explosives went off, sending a great fireball through what had been the skylight, once again picking them up off of their feet and throwing them the rest of the way across the roof. Robin managed to stick out a hand and grab the guardrail as they were tossed past it. Tightening his grip on Batgirl, he grunted as their weight pulled on his arm, which felt like it was being pulled out of its socket. He twisted his body around as the energy from the explosion let them go and they began to swing back toward the side of the building, letting his own back slam into the wall rather than Batgirl's.

Hanging precariously from the roof, they took a moment, catching their breath. Robin's grip began to give, and he winced, doing his best to hold on. Locking eyes with Batgirl, he asked through clenched teeth, "Can you climb up?"

Batgirl nodded, and reached an arm above her as far as she could. Just touching the rail, she wrapped her fingers around it as tightly as possible before letting go of Robin and gripping the rail with her other arm. She let herself hang for a moment before swinging herself up and over the edge, followed closely by Robin. He rolled as he came up over the edge, so as not to land on top of her, and they lay there side by side on the edge of the roof, breathing hard.

Robin let go of the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and shook his head. Propping himself up on an elbow, he smiled wryly down at Batgirl. "Well... That was fun."

Batgirl groaned, putting a hand over her eyes. "Right. That's the word I want. Fun."

He laughed, sounding tired. "Sorry. Are you sure you're okay?"

She nodded, pushing herself up on her own elbows. She frowned, looking at her right ankle, which she could see was already swollen. "I'll have to ice that, but otherwise..." She trailed off, noticing the way he was looking at her. "What?"

Robin shook his head again. "Nothing," he said softly. Reaching up a hand, he gently brushed her hair out of her face. "I thought you were bleeding."

"Am I?" she asked, startled, and put a hand to her cheek- which did hurt, now that she thought about it. Their fingers brushed and a jolt passed through her, freezing her breath in her throat. She was suddenly aware of the very little distance separating their bodies.

"No," he said in almost a whisper, also very aware of how close they were. It was hard to get a good lungful of air, and he couldn't seem to look away. There was a line they would cross if one of them didn't move soon... This wasn't the first time their attraction to each other had surfaced. By any means. But this was the most intense it had ever been.

They stared at each other, finding it hard to breathe and impossible to think. She watched his expression soften and a look she had never seen formed. Slowly, he removed his hand from the side of her head, resting it on the roof beside her. They were so close; his forehead was just barely touching her mask. He could feel how tense she was, could see her eyes cloud with some emotion he couldn't name. They were caught, suspended in a moment when nothing existed but each other.

Robin made the first move, leaning in and kissing her. Just a quick, soft kiss that wasn't much more than a touching of lips. As soon as he'd done it, he knew he'd made a mistake. He pulled back almost as soon as they touched, feeling torn. "God... I'm sorry," he whispered. She didn't say anything, but put a hand on the side of his face. When his eyes met hers, she leaned in and kissed him back. It started like the first—soft and barely there, but began to deepen. They had both kissed other people—but not like this. This was more intense, different because they both knew that they shouldn't. It didn't stop them from wanting it.

As the kiss intensified, Batgirl slid her arm from his face to his arm, and rested it just above his elbow. Almost as soon as she did so, Robin tensed and gave a slight gasp. They pulled apart instantly, and Batgirl moved her hand, causing Robin to wince again. "You're hurt," she murmured, frowning at the gash in his costume that revealed a cut just two inches above his elbow that looked to be an inch long.

"It's nothing," he said, his voice deeper and out-of-breath, like hers, sounding strange to them both.

Batgirl shook her head, sitting up the rest of the way, forcing him to sit back on his heels to avoid banging foreheads. "It looks like something's in there." She leaned over, looking at it more closely. Nodding, she delicately pulled a small piece of metal out, ignoring the way Robin tensed and hissed through his teeth when she did so. "There."

He grunted, glaring at his arm. "Thanks."

She nodded, biting her lip. "Looks like you might need a few stitches. It's pretty deep."

He shook his head and smiled reassuringly at her. "It's just a scratch. Really."

She didn't say anything, but dropped her head to avoid holding his gaze any longer. When she did so, he let out a sigh. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I don't know why I did that."

He reached out and took one of her hands. "The same reason I did," he said, just as softly. "We... we wanted to."

Batgirl didn't answer at first, feeling exhausted after the night's adventures and the last minute's events. "But we can't."

Robin was silent. He looked down at her gloved hand in his, absently running his thumb over the back of it. "I know."

"We don't even know who—" she stopped herself. She didn't want to put them in that position. And while it was all well and good for her to be attracted to Robin, it was entirely another to follow up on that attraction. Mutual though it may be.

Robin sighed. "I know," he repeated, knowing exactly what she was thinking because he himself was thinking it. It would be better for both of them to just... pretend nothing had happened. After all... it was just a kiss. Taking a deep breath, he let go of her hand and pushed himself to his feet, feeling for the first time all the night's injuries. He put out a hand for her. "Let's go. We need to find Batman."

She sat there for a moment, looking up at him and realizing that he had come to the same conclusion she had. They wouldn't acknowledge it again, she knew. So she put her hand in his and let him pull her up and help her limp across the roof. Relieved though she was, she couldn't help but feel a bit sad. They would be partners and allies, friends, like they had been. It was for the best, she told herself, ignoring the stinging in her eyes. They could never be anything more. They'd made their choices. They were Batgirl and Robin—she didn't even know who he _really_ was. And she wouldn't. The moment when those things might have changed was past. It didn't matter what they wanted... What mattered was what they did. And they would do nothing.

Barbara hurt in places she hadn't known could hurt. The roots of her hair hurt when she pulled her brush through it, no matter how gently. Luckily for her, her father had been tied up all Sunday with the repercussions of the Riddler's Saturday night out. By the time she and Robin had found Batman, he was looking for them. He, like Robin, had realized too late that they had solved the riddles wrong. The whole power overload scheme was a fake- a trap to lure them into a dead end situation. When they finally caught up with the Riddler, he was none too happy to see them. It hadn't been before eleven the next morning that Barbara had managed to sneak into her room. She'd felt fairly safe in taking a long shower, having just left her father at Arkham Asylum. In fact, setting up the extra security measures there had kept her dad gone all day- he still hadn't returned when she left for her dorm at GSU.

Monday afternoon, she still felt as if she were a walking zombie. Her roommate shook her head disgustedly at her and told her that if she didn't start sleeping at night instead of during classes, she would find herself in serious trouble. As if Barbara didn't know that. It was not an easy juggling act- Batgirl by night, defender of their "fair" city and partner to the Dynamic Duo; Barbara Gordon by day, daughter of the police commissioner and honor student at Gotham State. The swelling in her ankle had gone down considerably, but it was still sore enough to warrant using an ace bandage and icing it whenever there was a break in her schedule. She had a feeling she'd done more than twist it, but so far she could get around with minimal limping and without crutches, so she was going to count it as a minor victory that this was her worst injury. She'd had far more serious ones in the past.

She sat in the cafeteria that night, feeling her bones ache and wondering vaguely if she ought to take the following weekend off and go to a few of the parties her roommate had mentioned- if only to give herself a chance to heal a little, when someone tapped her shoulder. Startled, she glanced up and grinned at Dick. "Hey!" she said, gesturing to the seat across from her. "Long time no see."

Dick laughed. "Tell me about it," he said, shaking his head and sitting. He crossed his arms on the table and shrugged, noting the questioning look she gave him, "I just ate. Thought I'd say hi."

She nodded and speared a piece of cauliflower with her fork. "So," she said between bites, "what's up? How's the fabulous Dick Grayson, big man on campus?"

Dick frowned at her, raising an eyebrow. "What?"

Barbara smirked. "Nothing. My roommate is the unofficial gossip of her sorority." She waved her fork at him. "Do you have any idea how many times your name comes up in a meeting?"

Dick had the dignity to look increasingly uncomfortable, making it all the more fun for Barbara to continue her teasing. "Uh... What?"

She laughed. "I'm teasing, Dick. But you know they've calculated your girlfriend turnover rate, don't you?"

"I have a turnover rate?"

It was such fun to tease him.

"Oh, yeah," she told him, nodding sagely. "It's right up there with... oh... your roommate's. The football star, right?"

Dick laughed, and gave her a stern look. "Hey... Behave yourself, Miss I-Make-the-Dean's-List-So-No-Guy-With-an-IQ-Lower-Than-Mine-Has-a-Chance."

Barbara choked on her water. "What?!"

Dick sat back, giving her an innocent look. "What? You don't think the fraternity—which _my_ roommate happens to belong to—keeps tabs on you?"

She glared. "I have not dated enough to warrant being gossiped about."

Dick leaned forward, his trademark smirk on his face. "It's not how much you date that gets you gossiped about. It's who. And how attractive you are."

Barbara sat stunned, not quite certain what Dick had just said. She set her fork down and said, "Dick Grayson—are you flirting with me?"

"Who, me? Never," he said, waving a hand. His grin gave him away. All they ever did was flirt. In a totally harmless way. The sort of flirting between friends that evolves over years. They'd known one another since they were only eight—since her father had taken pity on the little orphaned boy taken to live at Wayne Manor and had brought his daughter to meet him. They had been best friends since the third grade—and although that friendship had changed, it was the type that would last, if only because by growing up together and staying friends when adolescence might have torn them apart, they were part of one another. As close to a sibling as either one had ever had. But ever since their sophomore year of high school, when Barbara had gotten her first real boyfriend and none of their classes coincided, they'd drifted apart. She had barely seen him at all since starting college. Moments like this—brief and not at all substantial—were all they'd had.

Shaking her head, Barbara smiled into her plate. "Sure, Dicky. Sure."

"Babs," he replied curtly, knowing that 'Babs' annoyed her as much as 'Dicky' annoyed him. "Actually," he said, leaning forward with a more serious look on his face, "I didn't come over here to just flirt."

"I'm so disappointed," she deadpanned. Looking up, she asked, "So what's the real occasion?"

"I have your book."

She stared at him blankly. "My... book."

He nodded. "The one on mythology? You lent it to me over Thanksgiving so I could write that honors paper last semester. Remember?"

Racking her brain, Barbara suddenly realized what he was talking about. "Oh! Right. I completely forgot..." She shrugged. "I guess it's a good thing you didn't, because I have that paper coming up soon."

Dick grinned. "I know. My football player roommate is in your honors class."

She opened her mouth, then reconsidered and settled on glaring. "Yeah, yeah. So...."

Dick looked at her, confused. "What?"

She held out a hand. "Where is it?"

Dick blinked at her. "Oh! The book..." He blushed slightly, and Barbara smiled, noting how especially cute he looked when he did so. Dick was easily one of the cutest boys on campus—she hadn't been joking about her roommate's sorority. The girls kept close tabs on who Dick dated, how long they dated and when he was available. "See..." he continued, "It's in my room. I can go get it," he offered, beginning to push himself up.

Barbara waved a hand at him, shoving the last forkful of her dinner into her mouth. "Don't worry about it," she said when she finished chewing. "I can get it later."

Dick shook his head. "No. I've had that since Thanksgiving. You're getting it back tonight." He gestured at her plate. "If you're done, you can come with me and I'll get it for you."

Barbara smiled and stood, taking her tray with her. "Lead the way."

They made their way across campus to Dick's dorm, giving Barbara time to tease him about his current girlfriend—some cheerleader named Carrie. "You know," she said slowly, "going through these ditzy blonde cheerleaders the way you do, one might think you were getting advice on girls from... oh, say... Bruce."

Dick raised an eyebrow at her and gave her a look. "Ha ha," he said dryly, unlocking his door. "You're so funny sometimes, Barb."

"Sorry," she apologized, meaning it. She had only meant it as a joke, but she could tell it had struck some sort of nerve. Dick grunted slightly by way of response and went to his bookcase. Barbara watched him, sitting on the edge of his bed. Noting the set of his shoulders, she sighed. "I didn't mean anything by it."

Dick turned, slightly surprised. Barbara looked sincerely worried that she had upset him. "Barbara—It's okay," he told her. He knew that his reputation was beginning to resemble Bruce's—it wasn't something he was extremely happy about, and he hadn't meant for it to happen, but... Girls tended to lose patience with him—or, rather, his unreliable schedule—fairly quickly. After a few missed or canceled dinner dates, they tended to give up on him. Hazards of the trade, he supposed. Shrugging, he turned back to the bookshelf. "It's not a big deal."

Barbara didn't reply, but watched him as he looked for her book. He looked... great, really. It was a good thing, when she considered it, that they didn't get to spend much time together these days. When he was around, she spent most of her energy trying to keep the mood light and ignoring the funny way her stomach flip-flopped when he smiled. _It's so stupid_, she thought, wondering how it was that her feelings toward him could have changed so. It was only in the past year that she had begun to notice what most of her friends said about Dick... He was _very_ nice to look at. Not that GSU had a shortage of nice-looking guys.

The problem with Dick was that he wasn't just nice _looking_, but just... nice, all around. He was one of the friendliest, most caring people she knew, and that helped very little when she was with him and trying to convince herself that this funny feeling was just a weird infatuation. Sure, Dick had his faults—he was a little moody, a little impatient and occasionally reckless and he made far too many bad jokes, but... He'd always been that way. He could be sweet one moment and ridiculously goofy the next. It amazed her, sometimes, that Dick was as normal as he was. After his parents died—the way they died... Living with, and raised by—of all people—Bruce Wayne, Gotham's own billionaire playboy...

"Hey, Barbara..." Dick said in a sing-song way, waving at her. "Hello?"

She looked up at him, startled. "What?"

He laughed and sat next to her. "You looked like you were a million miles away. What were you thinking about?"

She smiled coyly, ignored the way her pulse picked up and shrugged one shoulder. "Oh... nothing."

Dick nudged her in the side with his elbow. "Come on. What were you thinking?"

Barbara stood and moved to look out the window. "How was your weekend?" she asked, changing the subject.

Dick sat back, frowning at her slightly. Now he wouldn't get anything out of her. Barbara was like that- she never did anything unless she wanted to. Which was typically not a problem. It was just annoying at times. "Good. Spent some time with Bruce." Or Batman. Time with Bruce was rare these days. If he was home, it was for a break or some emergency, like the Riddler's recent escape. But none of this was anything Barbara could know about.

She smiled over her shoulder at him. "I went home this weekend, too," she told him before looking back out the window. "Dad was a little busy, though."

"I can imagine," he said wryly. He knew first-hand how busy Commissioner Gordon had been—though he'd been busier. He watched Barbara, only half-listening to what she was saying. Something... some nagging feeling tugged at the back of his mind as he looked at her. But he ignored it. He'd stopped dismissing the way he felt as a crush. Crushes didn't last years. At least, he thought they didn't. He had just learned to accept that they were friends and that was all they could be. He was beginning to be a little frustrated with himself—why was it that the women he found himself most attracted to were both very much off-limits? Not to mention that he didn't even know who Batgirl really was—nor did he particularly care to find out. He had a feeling that knowing who she was would only complicate an already complicated situation. It didn't hurt to date the girls who followed him around and then dumped him after a week or two. It at least kept his mind off of Barbara and Batgirl.

"So," she said, turning around and holding out a hand. "My book."

Dick quickly-and discreetly—hid the book behind him. "What book?"

"The one you just hid behind your back," Barbara told him, raising an eyebrow.

Dick gave her a shocked look. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Barbara rolled her eyes and crossed the room slowly, hands clasped behind her back innocently. "Well... Maybe I was wrong after all."

Dick hid a grin, knowing that she was going to try and grab the book from him. "Maybe," he said, leaning back when she leaned forward to peek behind him.

She stuck her tongue out at him and sat next to him again. He moved away from her, taking the book with him. Barbara gave a small growl and lunged, reaching for it. He laughed and rolled away, lying on his stomach over the book. Barbara laughed and began tickling him, trying to make him move. In very little time, they were rolling around on the bed (making a mess of his sheets in the process), tickling one another and laughing the whole time. Dick rolled away from her, holding the book just out of her reach. She nearly fell off of the bed trying to reach it, but grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled herself up far enough to reach his outstretched hand. Grabbing the book, she gave a cry of triumph and grinned down at him.

"Ha," she said, tugging it from his grasp while he laughed and tried to grab it back. Grinning, she tossed the book over her shoulder and onto the floor. "Take that."

Dick took her by the waist and tried to roll her off of him, but she put her arms down on the mattress on either side of his head, anchoring herself firmly. "Ha," she said again. The only way for him to move her would be if he tried a lot harder, which they both knew wouldn't happen. Dick shook his head, laughing and trying to catch his breath. He dropped his hands to his side and smiled up at her. "Okay. You win."

Barbara touched her forehead to his as her laughter began to die down, and her breathing became easier. Soon neither of them were laughing, and they stared at one another. Something was different, suddenly, between them. Dick's heart felt as if it were taking up permanent residence in his throat and Barbara was finding it hard to take a deep breath. A charge, a kind of electricity sparked between them and it wasn't all that different from a similar position Dick had found himself in that weekend. Being reminded of that made Dick remember why he had sworn not to acknowledge the attraction he felt to Barbara. "Barbara..." he murmured, finally finding his voice. "I..." he trailed off, his mind going blank as she moved her forehead away from his and looked even deeper into his eyes. They were both painfully aware of every place they touched; both finding it hard to breathe or finish a thought. Both experiencing deja-vu and both in a sort of denial about it.

Making a split-second decision that she didn't even realize she was making, Barbara moved the half-inch forward, closing the distance between them, and kissed him. Softly, hesitantly at first, a bit frightened of what she was doing. Just a brushing of lips. After a moment, she pulled away, resting her forehead against his and squeezing her eyes shut. "Oh, no," she whispered. "Dick, I'm sorry. I—" He cut her off, lifting his head to kiss her back. It was sweet—soft and gentle at first, but growing in intensity and passion. Caught up in the kiss, she moved her hand from the bed to grasp his arm, and felt him almost immediately wince, drawing a breath in sharply.

She pulled away, startled. Feeling light-headed and out-of-breath from their kiss (and experiencing deja-vu on a massive scale), she frowned down at him. "Dick... What?"

He shook his head, a strange look crossing his features. "It's nothing. Really," he added to convince her, smiling softly.

Ignoring his reassurances, Barbara slowly pushed his shirt sleeve up with a shaking hand. Two inches above his elbow, right where she had rested her hand, was a small cut with fresh stitches, an ugly yellow bruise surrounding it. She stared at it, a wave of nausea passing through her. The cut was all too much like a wound she had seen very recently... Beneath her, Dick squirmed uncomfortably.

"Barbara... it's nothing. I just... tripped," he said, obviously trying to cover something up. And Barbara had a sinking suspicion of what that might be. That kiss had triggered a chain reaction of sorts in her brain, and pieces of a puzzle were beginning to fall into place.

She sat up and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, wrapping her arms around herself. _All this time... But it can't be_, she thought, confused. Looking him in the eyes, she asked shakily, "And you needed stitches?"

Dick glanced at his arm, sitting up himself. "Not many," he finally said quietly. "I... I fell and hit my desk. The corner. It's just a scratch. Really."

She simply looked at him, shaking slightly as she put many clues together for the first time. "Dick..." she muttered, before closing her eyes as hot tears began to threaten. She felt his hand on her arm and when he asked if she was all right, she took a trembling breath and met his worried gaze. Nodding, she reached over and slowly pulled up the cuff of her jeans, exposing the ace bandage around her right ankle. She rolled her pant leg up to her knee and held it out for him to look at. After a moment, she glanced his way to see if he realized what she was showing him.

Now it was Dick's turn to look at her uncertainly. He, too, had experienced deja-vu during—and following—their kiss, but hadn't paid much attention to it—instead, he'd tried to draw her attention away from his arm, hating to lie to her. But, like her, a suspicion was beginning to take shape in the back of his mind. He was beginning to have a sinking feeling about her ankle. Swallowing hard, he asked softly, "What happened?"

Barbara noted the way his voice shook, and shrugged. "Twisted it."

Dick stared at her ankle for a moment, piecing together the many clues he had never acknowledged, before meeting her eyes silently. "Barbara..." If he was wrong... If she wasn't- and he went ahead and took a chance... There was no way to do it. Telling her about his night-life was out of the question. No matter how much he trusted her. It wasn't just himself he would be putting into potential danger. It was Bruce, and everything they tried to do when they set out at night... And it was Batgirl, whoever she was. If she wasn't Barbara... He sighed heavily, running a shaking hand through his hair. But it made _sense_ for Barbara to be Batgirl... He wondered why he hadn't thought of her before. _You didn't want them to be the same person_, a voice in the back of his mind said. "Barbara..." he repeated, unsure of what to do. "I don't kno-"

"I was on a wild goose chase," she interrupted, a sudden idea occurring to her. She looked at him intently, wondering if she was right and if he would catch on to her clue. There was no other way to see... She couldn't come out and tell him, if her guess was wrong and he wasn't Robin. That would be putting them both in a position neither could afford to be in.

He blinked at her at first, then eyed her suspiciously. "A wild goose chase?"

Barbara's heart sank- she'd been so sure.... Shaking her head, she smiled and tried to hide her disappointment. "Never mind, it was just a-"

"Scavenger hunt with riddles," Dick finished, surprising her—and himself.

Barbara gasped, unable to hide her reaction in time and stared at Dick in shock. "Dick, you..." She trailed off, unsure of what to say now. They sat silently, each closely watching the other's reactions.

"I didn't know it was you," he finally said softly, frowning at her as he tried to reconcile his mind's image of Batgirl and his image of Barbara into the same person. Sighing, he shook his head and looked down at his clasped hands, resting in his lap. "I really didn't."

"Me either," she admitted in a whisper, feeling sick to her stomach. It was different when she didn't know who he was. Two seconds ago, Robin had been the farthest thing from her mind. Not forty-eight hours before, she had sworn that she wouldn't do anything to compromise the relationship Batgirl and Robin shared. And now... Now two of her most important relationships were not only in jeopardy, but it turned out that they were one and the same. She felt sick, thinking suddenly about all the times Robin had been hurt, or had narrowly escaped some trap or serious injury. Suddenly Robin's safety was much more important to her. Why _was_ that?

_Because_, a small voice told her, _before, he was just Robin. Now, he's Dick Grayson. Someone you grew up with. Someone you really know. Who has a place in your memories and your daytime world. Who's a part of you. Before... he was just Robin. You knew he was a real person during the day... but never really thought about it_. And therein lay the issue. Now she cared on a vastly different level. A _vastly_ different level. She had always been attracted to Robin, and he to her, though neither would have admitted it before the other night. The thing was, she was only recently attracted to _Dick_ that way. He'd always been too much of a friend... The fact that he knew her teddy bear's name might have had something to do with it. The attraction had been frightening- different and dangerous, with the potential to ruin over ten years of friendship. So it was easier to focus on her attraction to Robin—safer. The funny thing was that they had been the exact same thing. And now she wondered how long she had known the truth, but subconsciously denied it.

Dick suddenly laughed, falling onto his back and covering his eyes with a hand. "This is ridiculous!"

Barbara frowned at him. "What?"

He waved a hand in the air. "Us. This is...." he sobered, taking his hand away from his face. "Okay, maybe it is a big deal."

She sighed. "Dick, you're crazy."

"So I keep being told," he replied. They were both silent for a moment before he exhaled loudly, sitting back up. "Well. Now what?"

Barbara hesitated, not sure herself. "I don't know."

Dick watched her lean forward, pulling her pant leg down. Her hair slid over her shoulder as she did so, and he shook his head. If nothing else, that bright red hair should have given her away. That and a million other things. But he supposed none of that mattered anymore. Now they knew. He knew her secret and she knew his. A secret he'd kept for almost as long as he'd known her.

Barbara sat back up and glanced at him. "How long?"

"Hmmm?"

"How long have you..." she trailed off, shrugging. "Done this?"

Dick gave a slight laugh, and rubbed his eyes. "Um... I think I was almost 10, the first time."

She stared at him. "10?! You were just a kid!"

Dick blinked at her, before checking that the door was shut. "Why do you think they call me the '_Boy_ Wonder'?" he asked, smirking.

She stammered for a second, staring at him. "Well..." When she thought about it, Robin _had_ been around for just about as long as she could remember. She could barely remember a time when there had only been Batman. "Why?" she asked softly, wondering what would make a ten-year-old take to the streets at night as a crime fighter.

Dick looked uncomfortable. "Barbara... It was...." He sighed. "It's complicated."

Barbara looked at the floor. "I did it for Dad," she said softly. "When he was arrested—remember?"

Dick nodded. "Of course." That should have been his first clue, really. The commissioner is arrested, and a Batgirl shows up. He thought things were complicated before. On the plus side, now his girl problems had been reduced to one girl, rather than two. Well, maybe two, if his current girlfriend counted. Though after this weekend, he highly doubted that she did.

Barbara sighed absently. "I didn't mean for things to go the way they did. I just wanted to help my dad—I was only going to pretend to be Batman at the rally, but... That didn't exactly work, now did it?" She shook her head. "And then... I don't know. I liked it, I guess. It felt good—to do something useful. For the most part, anyway."

Dick nodded. "I know." If anyone did, it was him. "Sometimes it feels like it's the only thing that matters."

She looked at him in surprise. "Yeah..."

Dick stood, and moved to lock the door and the windows, checking the room carefully before returning to the bed. "So we don't get caught by surprise," he explained. He sat cross-legged against the wall, looking closely at her. "So... Now we know."

Barbara nodded, but didn't say anything right away, a thought turning over in her head. "You were ten?"

Dick eyed her, but nodded. "Nine, actually. Just before my birthday. But... That was after a _lot_ of training, and it was a long time before he let me patrol regularly with him." He gave a grin. "And never on a school night."

She laughed softly, then shifted uncomfortably. "So... You obviously know who _he_ is...." Barbara was no fool. She had a pretty good idea of who Batman was, based on what Dick was—or wasn't—saying. Also based on pure common sense. But she wasn't going to come out and guess. This was all very new territory and something she had previously tried not to figure out.

Dick was silent, thinking. "Yeah," he agreed finally. "I'm an idiot, but yeah."

"Why are you an idiot?" she asked, surprised.

He shook his head ruefully. "I've never done this, you know. I've never—ever—talked about this stuff with anyone but him." _And Alfred_. "So... This is strange. And I'm sorry, Barbara, but I can't tell you much. I just... can't."

Barbara could see how upset Dick was, and nodded slowly. "I know. Would it help if I told you I think I know who he is?"

Dick laughed. "It would help if one of us would come out and admit that you know. You're not stupid, Barbara. You do know, but neither of us is willing to come out and say it. Although I should... It's just..." He shrugged. "Barbara, I meant that—I have never said anything to anyone about this stuff. This is... insane."

"Tell me about it." She looked sideways at him. "Bruce."

Dick blinked at her, then nodded silently. "Yeah." He put a hand to his face. "I think he's going to kill me, but yeah." He was silent a long time before he spoke up, quietly. "I found out when I was eight. About three or four months after... After my parents died. He knew what I was going through. He gave me a way to... a way to deal, I guess. I was... angry. I thought it was my fault, you know? So I thought, if I could help catch Zucco... And then... If I could help stop these guys... It was the same for him, I think."

She sighed, moving to sit next to him. Taking his hand and lacing her fingers through his, she leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed. "Why 'Robin'?" she asked softly, so he had to strain to hear her.

He smiled sadly. "My mother used to call me that. It was her nickname for me. Because my birthday is in the spring, you know? They were her favorite birds."

She squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry."

Dick shook his head. "Don't be." He smiled at the top of her head. "You have to admit, this is all kind of funny."

"What is?" She asked, staring absently at his fingers. "The fact that we were blind enough to not figure out who we were? I mean... When you think about it, it's all fairly obvious."

Dick laughed. "Just a little. So.... what now?"

Barbara didn't say anything at first. "I don't think it's going to change anything. Really. We just... know now. We've pretty well proven we can keep secrets, so..." she shrugged. "Things shouldn't change too much. Though we should tell him."

"Don't worry about it," Dick said. "I'll take care of it. He'll probably ask what took us so long," he added with a wry smile before squeezing her hand and saying seriously, "But that's not what I was asking about."

"Oh." Barbara didn't say anything more for a minute, turning the past few nights—this one especially—over in her mind. "I don't know."

Dick sighed. "Barbara... How long is this going to go on?" he asked softly. "After tonight... And Saturday, apparently... Do you think we can keep pretending we don't feel anything?"

Barbara bit her lip, feeling her eyes sting and unconsciously held his hand tighter. "Dick... Everything would be so... different."

"I know. Believe me, I know. And believe me," he added, deciding that jumping from the frying pan into the fire wasn't much of a jump, "I've thought about how 'different' things would be a lot. Although up till now, there were _two_ differents to think about."

Barbara managed a weak laugh. "Me too," she admitted softly. Shutting her eyes, she said, "Dick—we've been friends for so long... What if—"

He nudged her with his shoulder. "Hey," he interrupted gently. "Don't. Trust me—the 'what-ifs' are endless. But... We have been friends for a long time. I don't want anything to happen to that.... And if you don't think that friendship can't stand up to being anything other than friends- if it's going to hurt us.... Then we won't."

Barbara was silent. "What do you think? If something happens... We need to be able to work together, too, you know. It's not just a matter of being able to avoid one another."

"No," he agreed, and they fell into an uncomfortable silence. This was it- they had reached a point where they had to make a decision. Either move forward together, or deny their feelings and pretend that nothing was different. There was the same tension between them now as had been between Robin and Batgirl the other night... The difference was that as Robin and Batgirl, they had done nothing—the moment had passed and they had gone on as if it had never been. Now, they had been given another chance- a way to change what they had done.

"Barbara," Dick said slowly, "I don't want to live with knowing that we both felt this way and that we had a chance, but just let it... pass by. I don't want to live my life wondering 'what if'. There are already too many of them, without throwing us into it. I mean... what if we could make this work? What if we could be happy? What if we never tried? If we failed... At least we tried. This is it, Barbara. Right now." He exhaled softly, squeezing her hand. "I don't think we'll get another chance. And anyway... there's no going back now."

"I know," she whispered, staring at a point on the wall opposite them. "But... you're my best friend, Dick. And my partner. You're one of the only people in the world who understands... I don't want to lose that. To mess this up."

Dick laughed harshly. "Barb, I hate to say it, but I don't think it gets any more messed up than us." Then he was silent for a while. When he did speak, his voice was soft and weighed with emotion. "Life is short. Trust me on that. It's too short to spend wondering 'what if' and trying to avoid changes. They're going to happen if we want them or not. And considering what we do... If anyone knows that, we should."

Barbara sighed. "Carpe Diem, hmm?"

He laughed softly. "Yeah. Something like that."

"So..." She smiled into his shoulder, wondering at how she suddenly felt as if a large weight had been lifted from her. "What now? Where do we go from here?"

Dick pulled away just enough to look at her and smiled. "We'll figure it out as we go." And then he leaned over and kissed her.

_Things will never be the same_, she thought. But all in all... Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

_...Past the point of no return   
__The final threshold-   
__The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn...   
__We've crossed the point of no return...   
_"The Point of No Return"; Andrew Lloyd Webber; "The Phantom of the Opera"


End file.
